Author 




Title 



Class .rl\6QS.i 
Bookaxi-SSJIG.. 



Imprint 



rice Sixpence or Fifteen Gents 

=in i =i r=n i 






FRENCH'S ACTING EDITION 
Number 2465 

n i i P=nnr=i i i n 

THE FOURTH MAN 

AN ORIGINAL COMEDY IN ONE ACT 

BY 

AUSTIN PHILIPS 

AND 

EDWARD CECIL 



The Fee for each rfepresctfitatioh of this Play 
by Amateurs is One Guinea, payajble in advance 
to SamuM French, Ltd., 26 Southampton Street, 
Strand, London, W.C.' 



NO Books EXCHANGED 

ni ir=inr=ir===in 



LONDON 

;' SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd., 

J Publishtra, 

1 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, 



NEW YORK: 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 

Publisher, 
28 WEST 38Cb STREET. 



STRAND. 28 WEST 38Cli STREET. I 



^=im i =i r=!p==inr 



,000 PLAYS. 20,000 RECITATIONS 

I Send for Catalogue, Po»t Free. 

THE GUIDE TO SELECTING PLAYS " is published annualljr- 
1 entirely revised and brought up to date. Price Is. 



^^4^rrapi? 



SCENERY. 



Wilh a view to obviate, as far as possible, the great 
difficulty amateurs experience in obtaining scenery, we 
have endeavoured to cope with the situation by providing 

Strong Lithographed Paper 

which can be easily mounted on canvas, and then framed 
on woodwork. As all amateurs will have discovered, the 
expense of hiring or buying painted canvas scenery is 
very considerable, but by printing large quantities we can 
sell outright at a rate comparing favourably with that 
usually charged for the HIRE of painted canvas scenery. 
The primary object we have had in view has been to 
provide scenery which, by easy adjustment and additional 
sheets of lithographed paper, can be made to fit any 
reasonable size of stage. 



FRAMEWORK FOR THE 
INTERIOR SCENES. 

The framework of wood can be very easily constructed 
by any local carpenter. If any difficulty is experienced, 
we shall be glad to have the framework made and sent 
with the scene. In this case it would he very necessary for 
us to have at least a fortnight's nqlpe. Any questions 
on the subject of our scenery will be gladly and promp ly 
answered, and if the particulars of your stage — the 
height, the width, and depth, together with the positi )n 
in which you require the doors, fireplace, or window; — 
are forwarded, we will submit you an estimate of the 
cost, either with or without framework. 



Wc do not send Scenery on Hire. 

FULLY ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE 
sent gratis on application. 

Turn to next page of coVer, 



THE FOURTH MAN 



THE FOURTH 

MAN 

AN ORIGINAL COMEDY 
IN ONE ACT 

By 
AUSTIN PHILIPS and EDWARD CECIL 

1 ADAPTED FROM AUSTIN PHILIPS's SHORT 

STORY OF THE SAME NAME 



Copyright, 1916, by Samuel French, Limited 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 






ir-yf^^. 



OCT 16 1916 



Table 




( Settee ) 



^§ 





o.y 








-::! c3 








Cl*^ 






(^ 










&5 






03 


§5 






a 


t^W 


tf 






i 


D 






M 







/ 



eo^iclaji^ 



THE FOURTH MAN 

(AN ORIGINAL COMEDY IN ONE ACT) 

PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

George Finlay, a Solicitor. . . . Gordon Ash. 

John Cunningham, a Private School- 
master A. McLean. 

Canon Lamb, an Anglican Clergy- 
man Ernest Haines. 

A Waiter \ Fred Owen. 

and V Servants at the Cosmopolitan Hotel. 



The Hall Porter } Grendon Bentley. 

Scene. — A Private Room in the Cosmopolitan Hotel. 

Produced by Mr. Douglas Gordon. Gaiety Theatre, Man. 
Chester, April lo, 1916, 



THE FOURTH MAN 

The curtain rises on a private sitting-room in the 
Cosmopolitan Hotel. There is a sideboard in the 
centre of the back wall. On either side of the side- 
board are windows. There is a fireplace in wall r. 
There is a door in wall l. Midway down stage is a 
dinmg-table, which has been cleared. On it 
remain glasses, finger bowls, dessert:, and a decanter 
of port. At the table are four chairs. 

The chair facing the audience is occupied by Canon 
Lamb, who is sleek, cmnfortable, self-satisfied, and 
well-groomed. The chair to the left of the table is 
filled by Finlay, who is pleasant portly, and despite 
his profession, human to the core. The chair to 
the right of the table is occupied by Cunningham. 
Not less prosperous than the other two, he is leaner 
in body ; less self-satisfied than Canon Lamb, he is 
infinitely more 'superior ', and, like the clergyman, he 
has none of the strong sentiment in which the solici- 
tors warm-heartedness and humanity find vent. 

The chair with its back to the audience is without an 
occupant. But it has before it finger bowl, dessert, 
plate and glass. 

As the curtain rises. Lamb is peeling a peach. 

Lamb. A fitting conclusion to an excellent dinner ! 

Finlay. Just as much an epicure as ever. I 
remember how at school you always turned up your 
nose at jam roll. Nauseous, sticky stuff, you called 
It. But you generally cleared it up ! {Turning to 

7 



t- 



8 THE FOURTH MAN. 

Cunningham.) I hope you feed your boys well, 
Cunningham. Do you give 'em jam roll ? 

Lamb. Of course he does.- It pays to feed school- 
boys well nowadays. In schools like his I might 
almost say it pays to over-feed 'em. Doesn't it, 
Cunningham ? — what ! Rich mothers like their 
boys richly fed. 

Cunningham. Capital, Lamb ! 

Lamb. Jam roll is popular and cheap. So many 
things nowadays are popular and cheap ! Well, as I 
was saying, they've dined us well. A wonderful 
hotel ! 

Finlay. Wonderful ! Eight hundred bedrooms. 
The Americans say it's the finest in the world — out- 
side America. 

Lamb. Pity we couldn't all come. I suppose 
there's no chance of Gilmour turning up. 

Finlay. I'm afraid not. 

Cunningham. What was the last you heard of 
him ? 

Finlay (slowly and with feeling). He was in Jo'- 
burg — holding horses' heads. 

(Lamb nods sententious ly. Cunningham looks his 
disgust. There is a pause, during which the 
waiter enters at door L.) 

Waiter. Will you take coffee here or in the 
lounge, gentlemen ? 
Lamb. In here, please. 

(Waiter goes out ; shuts door.) 

Finlay [jerkily, to cover his emotion). I see Oxford 
are doing well. A Malvern boy got eighty odd. 
Caldicott his name is. I wonder if he was in our 
house. 

Cunningham. Don't know. 

Lamb. Nor L 

Finlay. Don't either of you ever go down ? 
Cunningham, what about you ? 



THE3 FOURTH MAN. 

Cunningham. No — never. Too busy. Don't 
suppose I shall till my boy is old enough to go. 

FiNLAY. Same here. But I sometimes write to 
old Smugey, all the same. He was a good fellow. 
He did more than any man to help his boys. 

(Lamb nods ; he glances at the empty chair.) 

Lamb. D'you remember how fond old Smugey 
was of Gilmour ? 

FiNLAY. Yes. He was a good judge too. I 
think he could often see what boys would be as men. 

Lamb. Often — generally — but not always. {He 
laughs unctuously.) I remember how he said we 
should become well-to-do men of the middle classes 
— but nothing more — because we lacked courage. 
Gilmour he always said would do better than any of 
us. 

Cunningham {in whose voice a certain faint self- 
satisfaction is apparent). Instead of which he's right 
down in the gutter. What a fall for a man of pride ! 

FiNLAY {warmly). If I could find him — with all 
the claims upon me — I would try and set him on his 
legs. 

Lamb {less warmly). Yes — certainly. 

Cunningham {still less warmly). Of course ! 

FiNLAY. But we shan't have to do it. He won't 
be found — and he'd be too proud if he were. 

Lamb {nodding). It is strange how some men go 
out unexpectedly — and how others hold their own. 
I suppose we have succeeded. Finlay, are you a 
success ? 

Finlay {shrugging his shoulders). I suppose so. I 
have the biggest practice in my little town — all the 
business worth having is in my hands. I can do 
nothing further. Only my expenses grow. I live 
up to my income — and the women set the pace ! I 
have to keep up appearances. 

Lamb. And what about you, Cunningham ? 

Cunningham. My school is very flourishing — but 



f. 



10 THE FOURTH MAN. 

the expenses are so heavy — and my wife Hkes the 
social side of things. So I cannot spare the 
money to expand. As Finlay says, keeping up appear- 
ances keeps a man hard up. 

Lamb. Yes I It is something Hke that with me. 
It is this awful living up to appearances which makes 
us all so poor. Still, we owe it to our position. 

Cunningham {bitterly). Appearances — curse 'em ! 
That's just what it is. 

{The door opens. Cunningham stops abruptly. The 
Waiter enters with coffee, first to Lamb, second to 
Finlay, third to Cunningham. He puts the 
cups down and goes out, closing door.) 

Lamb {fingering his watch-chain). By the way, have 
you fellows brought your crosses ? 

Finlay {feeling in pocket). Yes, I have mine ! 

Cunningham. Here's mine. Do you remember 
that lame beggar who sold them to us in Brussels ? 

Lamb. Outside that cafe on fair night — rather ! 

Cunningham. Didn't he jabber ! But he made 
us buy. 

Finlay. Made Gilmour buy, you mean. Gillie 
gave them to us as a memento of our holidays there 
together. It was he who so insisted on this meeting 
— and our bringing them — after twenty years. " Let's 
meet and compare notes when we've all got estab- 
lished in the world ! " That's what he said, if you 
remember. And there and then we fixed up to meet 
here — twenty years from that day. And here we 
are. (Finlay pauses. He looks at the empty chair.) 
I say, suppose we drink Gilmour's health ? 

Lamb. Certainly. 

(LAMByi//s his glass and passes the decanter to Cunning- 
ham, who passes it to Finlay in turn. Each man 
puts a little cross of black bogwood on the cloth.) 

Finlay {rising, and with enthusiasm). Charlie 
Gilmour, alive or dead ! One of the best I 



THE FOURTH MAN. 11 

{At this moment the Waiter enters. He comes in quietly 
and stands between Finlay and Lamb, who do not 
at first notice him.) 

Lamb {rising, and with less enthusiasm). Charlie 
Gilmour ! 

Cunningham {rising, and quite uninterested). Gil- 
mour ! 

{They all sit.) 

Waiter. Gentlemen ! 

Finlay {looking round). Yes. What's the mat- 
ter ? 

Waiter {behind l. of table). Have any of you 
gentlemen lost anything ? Because I picked this up 
just now, outside the door. 

{The Waiter extends his hand with the fingers open. In 
his palm lies a little black cross.) 

Finlay {taking cross and reading from it). Ker- 
messe — Bruxelles — eighteen ninety-four ! {He stares 
at Lamb, who stares back.) 

Cunningham. Thank — you — waiter. It does be- 
long to us. 

{The Waiter bows and turns towards the door.) 

Lamb {looking round). Waiter ! 
Waiter {turning). Yes, sir ! 
Lamb {looking at him keenly) . Nothing ! 
Waiter. Yes, sir ! 

{The Waiter again goes towards the door.) 

Finlay {rising sharply). Waiter ! 
Waiter {again turning). Yes, sir ! 
Finlay. Is your name Gilmour ? 
Waiter. No, sir. Name of Perkins, sir. 

{The Waiter goes out. The three men look at each 
other.) 

Finlay {shaken). It was absurd of me, I admit. 
{Sits again.) But for a moment, I thought . . . 



12 THE FOtniTH MAN. 

Lamb. Yes, I thought the same thing. Some- 
what the same height and build — the same age — and 
life alters some men terribly^if they have to rough it. 

Cunningham. It would have been too horrible 
to have been waited upon this evening by some one 
who had been one of us. 

Lamb. Thank God that isn't the explanation ! 

FiNLAY {pushing hack his chair). What is the 
explanation ? 

Cunningham. I don't know. 

Lamb {taking cross from Finlay) . It is Gilmour's 
cross. It is scratched and worn. But how it comes 
here, I cannot tell. Unless — unless . . . 

Cunningham {sharply). Unless what, Lamb ? 

Lamb {awed). Unless it -means that Gilmour is 
dead ! 

Cunningham. You suggest a supernatural ex- 
planation — that the cross has come to us in some way 
that we can't explain ? 

Lamb {solemnly). Yes, there are more things in 
heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philo- 
sophy. 

Finlay {jumping up from his chair). Stuff and 
nonsense ! You men are over educated. There's 
no far-fetched supernatural explanation to that cross 
coming here. You only read about that sort of 
mystery in books. The sort of mystery we are up 
against is an ordinary natural mystery. And I'm 
going to solve it. 

(Finlay goes towards the hell, r. helow fire.) 

Cunningham. Stop, Finlay ! 

Lamb. Let us be calm. 

Finlay. Don't say " let us be calm," Lamb, as 
if you were sa3dng " let us pray." For God's sake 
let us be sensible. Gilmour is here — in this hotel, or 
near it. Perhaps he is selhng newspapers on the 
pavement — outside. It is up to us to find out where 
he is — what he is doing — why he sent us his 



THE FOURTH MAN. 13 

cross ; possibly he daren't show himself.— No, don't 
start. I know enough of hfe in my profession to 
know that sometimes men have to he low. I'm going 
to find out where he is and what he's doing, and if he 
needs help. 

(FiNLAY goes to bell and rings it, R. below fire) 

Cunningham. Stop ! Let us be careful. We 
don't want to implicate ourselves in anything dis- 
graceful. 

FiNLAY {still with his finger on the bell). I'm not 
going to stop. 

{The Waiter enters. Comes up l.c.) 

FiNLAY {crosses to him, above table, speaking calmly 
— with an effort). Waiter, we want to speak to you. 

Waiter. Yes, sir. 

FiNLAY. These two gentlemen and I are not satis- 
fied with the explanation which you gave us about 
finding that cross. You said you picked it up. But 
I don't think you did. 

Waiter {up l.c.) I'm sorry, sir. 

FiNLAY. Never mind about being sorry. 

Waiter. Well, sir, I thought it might belong to 
you. I picked it up. 

FiNLAY. I've already said I do not think you did 
pick it up. I see now by your manner, you didn't. 
That cross belonged to a gentleman whom we ex- 
pected to dine with us. He has not turned up. As 
something which belongs to him has turned up — we 
want the matter explained. Now did you pick that 
cross up ? 

Waiter. No, sir. 

FiNLAY. Exactly. Now go and ask whoever gave 
it you to come and see us at once. 

Waiter. Yes, sir. 

{The Waiter goes out. Finlay, triumphant, turns, 
crosses back to fire, and smiles.) 



14 THE FOURTH MAN. 

Lamb. Upon my word, Finlay, you didn't lose 
much time in turning that man inside out. 

Finlay {dryly). It's never well to bother about 
supernatural explanations till you've exhausted all 
the natural ones. 

Cunningham. Do you think Gilmour gave him the 
cross to give us. 

Finlay. I don't think anything — yet. All I know 
is that the waiter was acting under instructions. 

Lamb {almost twittering with excitement). But it 
looks as if it must have been Gilmour. 

Finlay. All that is certain is that the man who 
gave him the cross is somewhere about. Otherwise 
he would not have gone to fetch him. 

{There is a knock at the door.) 

Finlay.' Come in ! 

{The Hall Porter enters, in uniform. He is wearing 
a peaked cap ; he closes door.) 

Hall Porter (l.c.) . You sent for me, gentlemen ? 

Finlay {up r. corner of table ; deliberately). Not 
exactly. I asked the waiter to ask some one who had 
given him something to give us,^ — to come and see us. 

Hall Porter. Yes. I gave him a small black 
cross to bring to you. 

Finlay. And you told him to tell a lie about 
picking it up. How did you come by that cross ? 

{The Hall Porter does not answer.) 

Cunningham. Did some poor devil give it to you 
to send in to us ? 

Finlay {suddenly). Take off your cap. I cannot 
see your face. 

{The Hall Porter takes off his cap and stands smiling 
and erect.) 

Finlay {fervently) . My God — it 's Gilmour. 



THE FOURTH MAN. 16 

Hall Porter [holding out his hand) . How are you, 
Bunny ? (crosses to up R.c). (Cunningham and 
Lamb rise.) 

FiNLAY {seizing the hand and shaking it). Twenty 
per cent, better than I was five minutes ago. How 
are you Gillie, old man ? 

GiLMOUR. First rate, thanks. (Turning towards 
Lamb.) And you, padre, how are you ? 

Lamb (above table, taking Gilmour's hand after 
a momentary hesitation, and hiding his embarrassment 
under a bad joke) . How can one be feeling anything 
but fit after eating one of your excellent dinners ! 

Gilmour (to Cunningham r.c). And you, Ferret, 
how are you ? Your digestion good also ? 

Cunningham {r.c, taking Gilmour's hand). Feel- 
ing very fit, thanks, Gilmour. But why all this 
elaborite mystery? 

Gilmour. Well — you are what you are and I am 
what I am. It occurred to me to test you. 

Cunningham. To test us, Gilmour. 

Gilmour. Yes — to test you. I saw you come in — ' 
and you were just what I expected — Lamb here, the 
perfect parson (Lamb drops to l. of table), you the 
prosperous society Schoolmaster : Finlay — as he al- 
ways was — more human than either of you . . . and 
I'm the Hall Porter of this hotel. 

Cunningham. The Hall Porter ! 

Gilmour (glancing at his uniform). What else ! 
So I sent in my cross with an obvious lie. I told 
myself that if you swallowed the lie and took no 
trouble to find me, it would not be worth my while to 
meet you again — but that if you sought me out it 
would be different. Well, you have sought me out — 
and here I am. 

Cunningham. It's very nice to see you again, 
Gilmour ; but can't you get out of those things before 
you join us. 

Finlay. Damn it all, Cunningham, what's it matter 
what he's wearing — so long as he's here. 



<• 



16 THE FOURTH MAN. 



Lamb {to Finlay). S — sh — sh. 

GiLMOUR {smiling). Why certainly, Cunningham. 
I'm off. duty — it won't • take me two minutes to 
change. 

(GiLMOUR goes out and shuts door. The three men look at 
each other. Finlay goes over to the fireplace and 
looks down into the empty grate. Cunningham 
goes to the table and picks up an apple and plays 
catch with it. Lamb pours out a glass of port, which 
he drains.) 

Lamb {seated l. of table, setting glass back on table). 
Poor fellow, he has come down. 

Cunningham {sits below table, facing Finlay). If 
it were in the colonies — but in England — ^at an Eng- 
lish hotel. 

Lamb. I wonder if he has ever been recognized by 
any one who was at school with him. Or does he 
always wear his peaked cap. It's a pretty good 
disguise. 

Cunningham. The whole business is pretty dread- 
ful, whichever way you look at it. 

Finlay {wheeling round) . What is so — dreadful ? 

Cunningham. That Gilmour should be in a menial 
position. 

Finlay. It doesn't seem to oppress him. 

Lamb {ponderously). That is a very bad sign. It 
shows he is dead to any sense of shame. 

Cunningham. Just so. 

Finlay. Very well then. What are we going to 
do towards getting him out of his menial posi- 
tion ? 

Lamb {worried). I don't quite see what we can do. 
He doesn't seem to mind. I repeat, he has no sense 
of shame. 

Cunningham. It's very difficult. Once a man 
loses his self-respect it's dreadfully hard to call it 
back again. 

Finlay {a step forward). You are not answering 



THE FOITRTH MAN. 17 

my question. \^at are we going to do to help him ? 
I will put down fifty pounds — as a start. 

(Lamb and Cunningham look at each other. Their 
faces fall.) 

Lamb. I can't afford as much as fifty. I'm not a 
rich man, Finlay. If you had said five pounds, I 
could have managed it — without telling my wife. 
You must remember we've appearances to keep up 

Finlay {crosses to top r. corner of table, half amused, 
half disgusted) . Hang it all, padre — make it a tenner. 

Lamb. Well, if I do the poor in my parish will 
have to do without something. 

Finlay {comes down r.c). Don't put it like that. 
Still, all the same, I hold you to the tenner. Now, 
Cunningham, what about you ? Sixty so far ! Make 
it up to a hundred ! 

Cunningham {aghast). A hundred ! My dear 
fellow, school-mastering isn't a gold mine ! 

Finlay Still it's a very paying game — in your 
line of it. 

Cunningham. You forget the heavy expenses I 
have. If I tried to save money, people would think 
I was poor — and therefore no good at my business. 

Finlay. Don't make excuses, Cunningham. 
You've already told us you are prosperous. How 
much are you good for — for Gilmour ? 

Cunningham. Are you sure we are going on the 
right lines, Finlay ? Wouldn't it be better to try and 
get him some sort of a respectable job — secretary to 
some society or something ? 

Finlay. We are going to do that as well. What I 
want to get at is — ^what we can offer him — supposing, 
shall we say, he's in debt or wants a bit of capital. 

Cunningham. We may be throwing good money 
into the gutter. 

Finlay. On the other hand we may not. 

Cunningham. Let us wait and see exactly how 
things are with him. 



18 THE FOURTH MAN. 

FiNLAY {crosses hack to fire). If you don't want 
to give anything, Cunningham, say so. 

Cunningham {reluctantly). Put me down for the 
same as Lamb. 

FiNLAY. Well — now we know where we are. 

{At that moment Gilmour enters again. He is dressed 
in a well-cut tweed suit, and looks a younger, 
brisker, and altogether more vigorous man than 
any of the other three. There is a moment's 
constrained silence. Gilmour breaks it easily 
and naturally by going up to Finlay and putting 
a hand on his shoulder.) 

Gilmour {crosses over to r.). Well, Bunny, how's 
life? 

Finlay {looking iip). Gillie, old man, we're jolly 
glad to see you — aren't we, you two ? 

Lamb \ {together without much enthusiasm). 

Cunningham j Rather ! 

Gilmour. You're all flourishing I see. 

Lamb. What makes you think that ? 

Gilmour. Oh, you have the air of it. You look 
intensely professional and respectable — as I always 
knew you would. Lm only a failure. 

Lamb {after an awkward pause) . Gillie ! 

Gilmour. Yes, padre. 

Lamb. We're awfully sorry. 

Gilmour. Sorry ! What for ? 

Cunningham. That you have had to take a job 
like yours here. 

Finlay. We would like to help you — if you would 
let us. We are fairly well-to-do- men. 

Gilmour {embarrassed). I don't quite under- 
stand . . . 

Lamb {blurting it out). We mean — well, while you 
were changing, Finlay said he was good for fifty 
pounds — and Cunningham and I would help also — if 
a small sum of money would get you out of this and 
start you in something — more suitable. 



THE FOURTH MAN. 19 

GiLMouR {moved). Finlay started a whip up for 
me — and you two joined in ! 

Cunningham. Yes— that's it — and if we could 
get you a clerkship or a secretaryship — well, we would. 

GiLMOUR. And you, Bunny, put down fifty pounds ! 

Finlay. That's nothing 

GiLMOUR. And you, Lamb — and you, Ferret ! 
There's no necessity. Fm quite satisfied with my 
job. 

Lamb. Satisfied ! You've lost your sense of pro- 
portion, Gilmour. It isn't good enough for a man of 
your birth and education. 

GiLMOUR. Not good enough. It's quite as good as 
a clerkship or a secretaryship. I don't want to 
change. 

Cunningham (s/^oc^^^). You ought to want. You 
ought to try to succeed. You're only forty-five. 
You' might redeem yourself yet. 

Finlay. We want to help you to succeed as you 
ought to succeed. 

GiLMOUR. But I have succeeded. After the 
smash of my father's business I went out to South 
Africa. I touched bottom. But I won through and 
I have fought my way up. I'm doing quite well. 

Cunningham. As a Hall Porter ? 

GiLMOUR. Yes — as a Hall Porter. 

Finlay. What do they pay you, Gilhe ?' 

GiLMOUR. Five shilhngs a week. 

Lamb (shocked). What ? 

Cunningham. That's nominal, of course. It's 
the tips which make up your real salary I suppose ! 

GiLMOUR. Yes — they mount up. You see this 
hotel has eight hundred bedrooms. We are always 
full. More than two hundred people leave every 
day. Nobody gives me less than a shilling — many 
give me half a crown. 

(The three men stare at him. Each is doing a mental 
calculation. Cunningham gets the answer first.) 



20 THE FOURTH MAN. 

Cunningham. An average of four hundred shil- 
lings — that's twenty pounds a day. 

Lamb {producing pencil, and calculating on table). 
Man alive — you're making seven thousand pounds 
a year. 

GiLMOUR {deprecatingly). Ah — not so much as 
that. You see, I've several assistants as well. But 
my clear personal takings in any one year have never 
been less than three thousand pounds. 

FiNLAY (warmly). Splendid, Gillie ! 

Cunningham {enviously). Then you're richer than 
any of us — we — none of us make half that — net. 

GiLMOUR. Yes. I suppose I am very fortunate. 

Lamb. Fortunate ! I should think you are for- 
tunate. How did you get the post ? 

GiLMOUR. The Manager knew me in South Africa. 
I was barman at a Jo 'burg Hotel. We worked it up 
and he sold it. Then he came home and got this. 
, FiNLAY. And he asks no percentage ! 

GiLMOUR. Of course not. Why should he. He 
knows that I am worth what I make. He tells me I 
have a personality which pleases people and makes 
them feel at home as soon as they pass the door. I 
suppose he's right, too — or I shouldn't have so many 
friends. Some of them come to see me for week- 
ends at Sevenoaks, where I've a little house. 

FiNLAY. And your wife is still alive ? 

GiLMOUR. Yes. Thank God — she's stuck to me 
like a brick. 

Cunningham {wondering ly). And she doesn't 
mind ! 

GiLMOUR. Mind. Why should she mind ? She 
isn't that sort. You see, she is a niece of Lord Gran- 
ston's. She hasn't any social ambitions. She just 

is 

{There is a pause. The three men look at Gilmour 
without speaking. They have become aware that 
he has gained something not merely concerned with 
money, which they have completely missed.) 



THE FOURTH MAN. 21 

Cunningham. You said you lived at Sevenoaks. 
But that is twenty miles away. Do you go out every 
night by train. 

GiLMOUR. No, by car. 

Cunningham. "j 

Lamb. I By car ! 

FiNLAY. j 

Gilmour. Yes — it's outside, waiting for me. I 
must be getting off immediately. Remember it's 
Saturday night. 

{He pauses, hesitates, looks at his three old school- fellows, 
and is obviously weighing them up. Then he turns 
sharply to Finlay.) 

Gilmour. Bunny, old man ! 

Finlay {at fire). Yes GilHe. 

Gilmour. You've got to come along for the week- 
end. I'm not going to let you say no ! {He 
crooks his arm within Finlay's, then puts out a hand.) 
By-bye, Cunningham. Doubtless we shall meet 
again ! 

Gilmour {crosses to fire) {shakes hands with 
Cunningham and Lamb, who does not meet 
his eyes. Lamb gives a nervous little laugh.) 

Lamb {rising) . Good-bye, GiUie — glad to see you so 
flourishing. I believe you're the luckiest of us all. 

Gilmour {still with his arm crooked in Finlay's and 
.speaking slowly, deliberately ; emphasizing his words). 
Lucky ! I should say I was lucky. Fm the happiest 
man in the world. I like my job — I live quietly — 
and I've no appearances to keep up ! 

{Exit Gilmour with Finlay.) 

Quick Curtain. 



Butler & Tanner Frome and Loncloa 



THE PLAYS OF C. H ADDON CHAMBERS, 

IS. 6d. each, 
'^ THE AWAKENING,, 

CAPTAIN SWIFT^ 
THE IDLER. 
SIR ANTHONY, 
TYRANNY OF TEARS. 

THE PLAYS OF MARK AMBIENT. 
1$. 6d. each. 
OH, SUSANNAH! 
SNUG LITTLE KINGDOM. 

THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR LAW. 

IS. 6d. each. 
COUNTRY MOUSE, 
NEW BOY, 

THE PLAYS OF JEROME K. JEROME 
IS. 6d, each. 
MISS HOBBS. 
WOO DB ARROW FARM. 

BY ANTHONY HOPE. 

ADVENTURE OF LADY URSULA. 
PILKERTON'S PEERAGE. 



LONDON: SAMUEL FRENCH. LIMITED 



THE PLAYS OF ALFRED SUTRO. 



Paper, acting edition, 15. 6d. net. Cloth, Library Edition, 

2s. 6d. net. 
THE FASCINATING MR. VANDERVELDT 

A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS. (Paper oaly.) 
THE BARRIER. 

A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. (Cloth only.) 
THE BUILDER OF BRIDGES. 

A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. «31oth only.) 
THE FIRESCREEN. 

A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. (Cloth only,) 
JOHN GLAYDE'S HONOUR. 

A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. (Cloth only.) 
MOLLENTRAVE ON WOMEN. 

A COMEDY m THREE ACTS. 
THE PERFECT LOVER. 

A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 

THE PERPLEXED HUSBAND. 

A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS. (Clotb oaly). 
THE TWO VIRTUES. 

A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS. 
THE WALLS OF JERICHO. 

A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 

The following One- Act Plays at 6d. each, 
THE BRACELET. 
CARROTS. 

THE CORRECT THING. 
ELLA'S APOLOGY. 
A GAME OF CHESS. 
THE GUTTER OF TIME 
A MAKER OF MEN. 
THE MAN IN THE STALLS. 
THE MAN ON THE KERB. 
A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED, 
THE OPEN DOOR. 
MR. STEINMANN'S CORNER 
THE SALT OF LIFE. 



THE PLAYS OF R. C. CARTON. 

IS. 6d. each. 
THE BEAR LEADERS, 
LADY HUNTWORTH'S EXPERIMENT, 
LIBERTY HALL. 
MR. HOPKINSON. 

MR. PREEDY AND THE COUNTESS. 
PUBLIC OPINION, 
SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 

THE PLAYS OF H, V. ESMOND 

IS. 6d. each. 

BILLY'S LITTLE LOVE AFFAIRS. 

ONE SUMMER'S DAY. 

WHEN WE WERE TWENTY-ONE. 

WILDERNESS. 

ELIZA COMES TO STAY i/- net. 

THE PLAYS OF MADELEINE LUCETTE 
RYLEY, 

I IS. 6d. each. 

AN AMERICAN CITIZEN. 
JEDBURY JUNIOR. 
MICE AND MEN. 

THE PLAYS OF OSCAR WILDE. 

IS. 6d. each. 

IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST. 
LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN. 



WNDON: SAMUEL FRENCH, LiyJTED. 



Continued from second page of coVer. 

SCENERY. 

^ i 

I 

Our stock of scenery consists of 

The Oak Chamber Set. 

This scene will be found suitable for the purpose of an 
ordinary interior in nearly all plays requiring a room 
which is not representing a drawing-room, kitchen, or a 
very poverty-stricken type of room. The kind of 
furniture used in it will naturally do much to indicate the 
status of the people inhabiting 

The Drawing-room Chamber. 

This scene has been prepared on exactly the same 
lines as the oak chamber, and with the same object in 
view — the increase in both height and width according 
to requirement. 

Both Large and Small Garden Scenes 
Both Large and Small Wood Scenes 

A Drop Scene 

Puffed Satin Paper for Proscenium 

Fireplaces 

House-piece for Street Scene 

Interior Window and Interior Doors 

FULLY ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE 

Sent gratis on application to SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd., 26 

Southaxopton Street, Strand, London ; or 28 West 38th Street, 

New York City, U.S.A. 



The Latest Additions 

to 

French's Acting Edition 



2513 THE HEADMASTER. By Wilfred T. Coleby 

and Edward Knoblauch Is. 

2514 BEFORE BREAKFAST. By Gbita Sowerby . 6d. 

2515 GENTLEMEN, THE KING! By Campbell Todd 1^ 

2516 SELF-SUPPORTING. By Margaret Young . 6d. 

2517 THE PURSUIT OF PAMELA. By C. B. Fer- 

nald Is. 

2518 A LITTLE ADDRESS. By Margaret Young . 6<1. 

2519 THE LIARS. By Henry Arthur Jbnes . . Is. 

2520 JUST TO GET MARRIED. By Cicely Hamilton Is. 

2521 THE KING WHO HAD NOTHING TO LEARN. 

By Leon M. Lion 6d. 

2522 THE GATE OF DREAMS. By Dion Clayton 

Calthrop . . . . . . 6d. 

2523 THE REST CURE. By Gertrude E. Jennings . 6d. 

2524 ACID DROPS. By Gertrude E. Jennings . 6d. 

2525 THE QUOD WRANGLE. By Oliphant Down. 6d. 

2526 HELEN WITH THE HIGH HAND. By 

Richard Pryce and Arnold Bennett . . .Is. 

2527 A COLLECTION WILL BE MADE. By 

Arthur Eckersley 6d. 

2528 THE RECRUIT. A Play of the Moment . 6d. 

2529 THE COMPLEAT ANGLER. By Arthur Scott 

Craven and J^ D. Beresford .... 6d. 

2530 ADVERTISEMENT. By Basil Macdonald Hast- 

ings . . .Is. 

2531 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. By Eden Phill- 

potts and Basil Macdonald Hastings . . Is. 

2532 THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. A Play 

for Present Times 6d. 



The published prices are net 



LIBRARY OF 



CONGRESS 



lillllil 

014 707 533 9 



